


Echoes

by VolksParadox



Series: Tales [2]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: 19th Century, Angst, Discord: Elsanna Shenanigans (Disney), F/F, Unrelated Anna/Elsa (Disney)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolksParadox/pseuds/VolksParadox
Summary: A letter fifteen years too late. Lady Anna's choices are few, and some are perhaps not choices at all. A blue tale.
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney)
Series: Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083143
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36
Collections: Elsanna Shenanigans Monthly Contests Submissions





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prototyp013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyp013/gifts).



> This a story submission for the Elsanna Monthly Contest in the Elsanna Shenanigans Discord. Dedicated to my dear sister.

**Echoes**

She read the words once, twice. A feeble gasp left her lips, her pulse rising. Her hand closed on her mouth, failing to still her ragged breaths. Anna blinked away the tears, focusing on the single line carefully written on it.

_‘Come to me.’_

That was it: a lone statement. A simple request, half a life too late.

Lady Anna Agnes stumbled back into her chair.

She studied the plain page fruitlessly, trying to re-arrange her runaway thoughts; trying to make sense of it. How long had she waited for the words that seemed to taunt her?

Fifteen years had soothed the rough edges of memory, but sorrow’s thorns, hidden underneath the mundanity of everyday life, tightened their ancient grip on her again.

She took the small paper and read the words again and again. There was no denying it.

Those were Elsa’s words, written in Elsa’s tight, meticulous handwriting.

It took her a while to admit it: that in the deepest parts of herself, she already knew what she had to do. She had always known; hoped for this miracle to happen, and she would be damned if she didn’t follow through, to the bitter end.

-v-

_Anna met her just after her sixteenth birthday. She was the daughter of a drunken sailor, a tall young woman of snowy hair. Anna’s ever-gentle mother had decided to take her in, to save her from her broken home. The girl shook her hand shyly, the cast-down stare failing to conceal the shine and beauty of her eyes._

_Young Lady Agnes should’ve known, then and there: the grasp of Fate’s hand, hidden in plain sight. A lone glance that would shift the whole landscape of her life with the strength of a divine tempest._

-v-

_She only saw her occasionally at first: helping serve dinner or dutifully dusting off the hallways, the top of her head covered in a linen cloth and her thin frame wearing a white apron over her wine colored dress. Always proper, Elsa would bow to her, showing that restrained smile of hers, which Anna returned with her own._

_After a couple months, the blonde’s presence became a common sight after she was appointed as her chamber maid. Through some stubborn coaxing, Anna got her to talk occasionally. She managed to learn a few sparse details about Elsa’s life, small, bright snippets of a shadowy whole: she was well read, was knowledgeable in how to make all kinds of knots thanks to her father, and found most of nature fascinating._

_A fragile friendship inevitably followed: Elsa’s company soothed the loneliness of her home, where no laughter echoed on its great gardens and ample hallways. Whenever her father wasn’t home, Anna would invite her for tea and chocolate-flavored cookies in the gardens._

_Young Anna Agnes found light-hearted happiness in hearing the soft giggles of her maid, always so far in between. The sadness of those blue eyes felt inviting: a deep melancholy that grew intriguing as the last months of her adolescence passed. Soft days, bright as summer, the foundation of her soul’s downfall._

-v-

_After she came of age, suitors became another part of her routine: Father had been clear on her duties. Of course, she would’ve preferred spending her days horse-riding in the countryside, or simply hearing Elsa read to her in the evenings, both sitting lazing about in her room._

_However, those cheerful moments faded in a haze of boring gatherings and dull walks around the manor’s grounds. No amount of demure flattery, shining grins or gentle courtship managed to hold her attention. Her mother kept finding men for her to meet, each one duller than the last._

_Sometimes, Elsa accompanied Anna as she and some boring new suitor strolled through the yard that surrounded her home._

_It began simply enough. Mirthful glances, hidden and quickly shared between Lady Agnes and her maid every time the respective suitor said something especially dumb, or sickeningly sweet. It became a game for them: once he would turn away, Anna would roll her eyes or made a nasty face, and Elsa would smile, sometimes even giggle._

_Singing lessons, formal dances and countless outings; the weeks swirled into months and each passing one exhausted more of her father’s patience. Her only constant, her only safe heaven was Elsa. Her polite words, her rare teasing smirk whenever they played checkers, and her longing glances, the ones that only appeared whenever she thought she wasn’t looking at her. But Lady Agnes did notice._

_As she began to truly take note of her unassuming beauty, Anna began to crave those gestures. The way Elsa tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; the way she chewed her lip as she concentrated on some menial task, or the outline of her chest under the blue and white layers of her modest outfit._

_The colorful mosaic of those fleeting images shed light into her soul’s desire as it began to grow, like vines, slowly but surely flourishing under her wanting gazes._

_Soon, breath-taking warmth threatened to burn her if she didn’t, in one way or another, act on it. On a cold winter night, they sat beside one another in front of the fire, inside her quiet chambers. Flickering lights danced on Elsa’s face, highlighting her sharp, alluring cheekbones and the lovely shape of her long eyelashes. Anna’s hand moved on its own, making its way towards the other chair. A strange calmness descended on her, like a heavy mantle, as she rested her hand over the maid’s._

_Elsa’s head whipped around. She looked at her, wide-eyed, with the shadow of uncertainty clear on her cheeks and furrowed brow, but when Anna gently squeezed her hand, she began to relax. A shy glint surfaced in those blue eyes, the first hint of a mutual understanding._

_It was a wordless, foolish vow, a silent promise of shared wants._

_That simple gesture opened the floodgates. They began to seek each other’s presence, hunting down their own little private moments. An occasional, feather-like brush, a stolen glance at dinner. A simple, searing touch on the arm, as Elsa combed her hair at night, teal eyes staring at those stormy orbs through the mirror. They would hold their gazes, aware of the hidden implications hanging above their heads._

_Both could sense it: the subterranean rumblings of an eruption, as dangerous as it was inexorable._

-v-

Kristoff looked at her in silence from the other end of the room, his hand still on the door handle.

Anna spared him a single glance before she continued to pack her large suitcase. She had wished to avoid this, but it seemed fate would not give her even that.

“Dear?” He asked, his voice fading into the sound of hastily opened drawers.

Lady Agnes stubbornly ignored him as she threw a couple more dresses and corsets into the bed. She rummaged through the last two drawers on her vanity, roughly shoving the rest of her cloths into the suitcase.

Kristoff approached her. He called her again, and again she ignored him. Anna knelt, grabbing a pair of shoes from under the bed. He tried to look into her eyes, but she kept evading his gaze.

Suddenly – and to no little surprise – his hand lunged forward, grabbing her by the wrist.

“Anna!” He yelled, his voice rising for the first time. “Just what in the world…” Kristoff’s voice died out as he took in his wife’s tears. Most of all, he took in her fiery gaze, a sight that had faded as their years together rolled by. He released her and took a step back.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” he asked. Her throat felt too tight for words, so she just glanced at her night table, where she had left Elsa’s note. Her husband gave it a single glare and his hardened eyes, almost hidden below his frowning brows, looked back at her questioningly.

“You’re leaving…” He uttered.

Anna almost flinched at the flatness of his voice. She turned, guilt sinking into her gut.

The anger on Kristoff’s features faded, first into confusion, and then into a resigned, somber look. His mouth twisted slightly, as she had seen only a handful of times.

It was the same look he had when she told him she wanted no children; the same he had the morning after their wedding night…

“I’m sorry…” was all she could whisper. He was a good man, a caring husband whom she couldn’t force herself to love. Anna selfishly hoped he could forgive her, after he wasted the prime of his life chasing after her, but only catching her shadow.

Once the last of her garments were in, she slammed the suitcase shut; the dull sound echoed heavily in the thick silence. She lifted it awkwardly with both her hands and walked to the door, keeping her gaze straight; in the corner of her eye, she saw Kristoff’s hand hesitantly rise to reach for her, but he didn’t touch her.

She realized even he admitted it: the ruin their joint life had become.

Anna opened the door, its lone creak the last sound she heard of her home before she left.

-v-

_Some months after their veiled dance began, her father announced his final, abrupt decision to her. Once the news spread the next day, most of her household was quick to congratulate her with warm handshakes and gentle words. Most. When she finally found Elsa – busy sweeping the floor of one of the more remote hallways – at first she had refused to look her in the eye. When she did at last, Anna couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t._

_Cerulean eyes stared blankly at her. Gone were the charm and kindness Anna had seen surface in them over the last year._

_“Congratulations, Lady Agnes,” were Elsa’s dead words before she bowed and turned away, continuing her work. Anna stood there, petrified, the hurricane of her feelings wreaking havoc inside her chest. The young lady stepped back slowly, and once she turned on the hallway’s corner she covered her mouth, stiffening the incoming whimper. She leaned back, a few rebellious tears pathing over her freckled cheeks._

_Something had shattered, its pieces sinking and cutting inside her chest._

_The next morning, a new chambermaid stepped into her room, and those pieces sharpened. She couldn’t let this happen._

_An agonizing week passed before her father left the manor in a business endeavor, which would take him out of the picture for several days. Deep in the middle of the night, Anna wrote her message in a tiny scrap of paper she slipped into Elsa’s room. It simply said: ‘Come to me. I’ll wait for you tomorrow, in the gardens, past noon.’_

_She knew Elsa would read it. That was all she could hope._

-v-

_Bright, reddish leaves fell from the shedding branches above her head. Anna sat on her favorite spot by the tall trees, surrounded by lively, carefully kept bushes._

_Elsa stood a few feet away, gazing at her. Anna smiled at her, and patted the sit next to her. With the caution of a wounded animal, she sat down._

_Anna raised her hand and softly touched Elsa’s cheek. The blonde stilled. Into that gentle touch, the young lady tried to pour all the fervor and warmth that had grown inside her, to convey everything the woman in front of her had become: the setting sun of her life, the line where desire and affection met and fused into one, a tall, blonde woman of impossible depth. When Elsa nuzzled against her trembling hand, Anna understood, and smiled. There was no need for words; perhaps never had been._

_Slowly, they leaned into each other._

_Hidden in the thin safety of the garden’s bushes, their bodies finally met. Her lips felt warm, tender on that first brief, hesitant touch they shared. Pure-blue eyes gazed back at her. Elsa breathed her name like a caress, a spell cast that sealed their fates and pushed their spirits forward, beckoning them into the thrill of the unknown. Finally, the labyrinth of nuanced glances burst into a maddening crescendo of aching lips._

_Her fingers tangled in the blonde’s silky hair. Elsa kissed her with growing hunger, and Anna craved it all, seeking the heat of her feverish touch. When Elsa captured her lip in a playful bite, a surge of luscious pain arched her back. The coy shine swirling in those blue orbs stole her breath away and blanked all other thoughts._

_Different desires colored each kiss: soft ones meant to explore and taste, composed of timid pecks and half-lid gazes; the ones in between, weaved of suppressed shivers and swirling tongues. All were doomed to fail in their purpose, for each tried to douse a fire they could only inflame. In those fragile instants, Anna recognized and accepted one simple fact: she answered to a higher call. From this moment forward, each breath would contain the whisper of the Elsa’s name. Her hands roamed the maid’s face, relishing in the smoothness of her cheekbones and the unusual warmth of her reddened cheeks._

_All that remained for Lady Agnes was to close her eyes once more and drop into the abyss. She fell willingly._

-v-

_She sneaked into Elsa’s room that very night. What had begun in the gardens, they would finish covered by night’s mantle._

_Whatever restraint had been there before, it faded as pale hands pulled fiercely on Anna’s robes. She answered in kind, grabbing the hem of Elsa’s nightgown and pulling it over her head. Their bothersome clothes, like wandering leaves, fell softly into the floor. Small steps slowly guided them onto the mattress. Once they settled facing each other, Anna sat upright, hungry eyes reveling in the opportunity to finally roam free over her naked form. How many sleepless nights had she spent shamelessly picturing this instant? Too many to properly count. Her body reacted accordingly, heat quickly spreading down her abdomen. Full lips soon dragged over Elsa’s collarbone, finally free to do as they pleased. She nipped, and kissed and lapped against the juncture of the bone while her hands caged her maid’s body and sunk into her back._

_Anna marveled at the silkiness underneath her yearning touch, at how smoothly she could run her eager fingers from the blonde’s shoulder to her rear. Elsa’s back muscles tensed each time she bit and sucked at the hollow of her neck, and each of her soft gasps, that the redhead felt right in her ear, drove her deeper into oblivion. There was only Elsa: her body, her cascading locks, her breathless mewls and the delicious sting of her nails clawing at Anna’s own back. The warmth of arousal pooled in her belly, slowly flowing into her thighs, demanding swift release._

_As desire fiercely swept through her, Anna pulled back. She needed to make sure, so she stared into the blonde’s heated gaze._

_The azure hue of Elsa’s eyes was mesmerizing: two darkened wells of desire. Yet, it wasn’t enough. Anna searched them for a zealously kept secret. Her lover did as well, and as their gazes deepened into each other, both found what they were looking for. A certain softness: a weak echo of the truth they could sense in their racing pulses. Their hands joined, and twin smiles graced their faces. Each searing touch and each wandering gaze was but a mirror of that buried need, unearthed at last. It was all a sinking ache._

_Chaste kisses followed, and Anna felt Elsa’s carefree smile on each. Gently, her hands pushed Elsa down into the mattress._

_The drapes covered the only window in the tiny room, but a single ray of dim moonlight sneaked through the dark fabric. That single line of brightness met her body, barely strong enough to insinuate the outline of her ample bosom and the ivory tone of her shapely legs. Shadows enveloped most of her features, taunting Anna to come closer._

_It awoke something primal – almost violent – inside Lady Agnes to see tall, prim Elsa surrender, her bare chest heaving for air, her cheeks flustered and her godly hair splayed out in the white mattress like a golden crown. Anna leaned over her, seeking her lips as her hands trailed a sinuous path down to her breasts. Then, she began a slow, deliberate descent. She kissed her firm jaw; then, the hollow of her collarbone. Her hands ran impatiently through the sides of Elsa’s chest, barely avoiding – and slightly teasing._

_A wild shudder coursed both bodies when Anna’s mouth finally reached the hardened peak of her breasts. How she wished she could’ve stayed in there for all of time, to explore and ravish with her lascivious tongue around the soft flesh till they were no more, but her true destination still lay ahead._

_She continued her trail south in a never-ending medley of hot breaths and playful kisses. When she reached the skin below Elsa’s navel – pale flesh taut with anticipation –, the corner of her lips pulled into a smirk. Every inch she gained downwards rewarded her with a stiffened moan._

_“Oh, Anna…” She suddenly heard, and the words sent shivers down her back from head to toe. More. Oh, she needed to hear so much more of that breathless voice._

_When she dove into Elsa’s warmth, a piece of Anna’s heart, one she didn’t knew she had till then, finally broke free. It spread its wings for the first time on the winds of Elsa’s cries and whimpers, and as her lover let go in a full-bodied tremble, so did she, releasing it into the air as a silent prayer._

-v-

Anna gazed over the changing scenery as the afternoon train took her past the last of the eastern boroughs. The countryside had shed its bright greens and hay yellows; dry leaves covered the backyards and the streets, racing freely in the winds’ gentle sweep. A few reddened clouds crossed the sky as it slowly shifted into a deepening indigo. She pressed her cheek against the cold glass and sighed, closing her eyes.

Even after all those years, Elsa’s face remained vibrant, alive inside of her.

There were no photos, nor paintings of her. All that had remained were her own memories, shining shards of the past she had buried. What else could she have done?

When she opened her eyes, her own reflection stared back at her. Some of her freckles had faded; tiny lines had begun their long siege around her eyes. Fifteen years had passed since the last time they had seen each other.

Would Elsa recognize her? Would she love and desire her still, after time’s passage had marked her?

-v-

_They met whenever they could over the next year. Once lit, the flame of desire consumed them both, setting ablaze their sanity and their caution. Like an encroaching shadow, Anna’s engagement seemed to shorten their time together; cruelly, the days dripped away one at a time. Moonlit hallways and vacant, dusty rooms stood witness to their haste, to their doomed dance._

_They knew they were testing fate as their stolen kisses became needier, as the urge to feel each other grew with each encounter._

_Anna knew a choice had to be made._

_“We could run away…” The redhead muttered, playing with a lone strand of platinum hair. The night would soon turn into dawn, and she would’ve to sneak out of Elsa’s small living quarters, like a petty thief. She didn’t care about dignity anymore: only a few months remained. They lay next to each other, legs tangled under the cover. Anna playfully rubbed her feet against Elsa’s exposed calf, gently urging the blonde’s next words._

_“Can we…?” Elsa’s tone was dry, her pristine face turned into an ivory mask. It was a vision Anna had come to hate, for it housed a silent, poisonous resignation that lay hidden in her maid’s words and empty gaze._

_Anna frowned. Carefully, her hand sneaked to Elsa’s chin, and turned her pale face towards her. The stony front of her eyes remained stubbornly in place, and Lady Agnes resolved to tear it._

_“Yes…” she replied softly. Even to her, it didn’t sound right nor convincing, but it was all she had. Nevertheless, Elsa’s stare – made of pure sapphire – weakened after her whisper. Skepticism gave way, if only an inch, to bright hope: just a sliver of light, weak and fearful. A familiar heartache filled Anna’s chest._

_It showed how easily she could turn her lover’s mood; undeniable proof of how much of herself Elsa had already given._

-v-

_Inevitably, their luck ran out. All it took was a little slip, a small moment of carelessness. Her father had come unannounced into her room – with the door unlocked – and it all crumbled from there. Anna had never seen him like that: his face red with fury, shouting angrily as he grabbed her arm and pulled with an iron-like grip. Her lover just sat there, on the bed, using one of the blankets to cover her modesty as silent tears fell from her eyes._

_Anna pushed, and cried and yelled at her father, to no avail. Her sobbing, angry words tried to explain, to make him understand in a desperate, futile effort, but he would’ve none of it. Before he could finish dragging her off her own chambers, she glanced one last time at Elsa’s sullen expression. She read all of it: the regret, the defeat, the shame too, but above all, the sadness of a shattered illusion._

_The end of a beautiful dream._

-v-

_The last she saw of her, looking through the tall windows in one of the guest rooms, was her long, glimmering hair as Gerda took her into the family’s carriage. Elsa had not resisted, and Anna had wanted so badly to resent her, to hate her for giving up on them; but she couldn’t._

_Her mother told her they would take her off the island and into the care of some distant relatives on the continent. Her eyes were full of understanding and care, but that’s all they could offer her daughter, and Anna had little use for them. Yelling matches with her father had become common, but he had managed to keep what happened under wraps. Twice she tried to sneak into Elsa’s room before they took her away, and both times her father’s men caught her._

_For a whole week after she left, endless dread threatened to drown her._

_There hadn’t been any news of the_ Yale _, the ship that would take Elsa to the mainland. A raging storm had assailed the costal line, and there was no sign of the ship, or so she heard. Her father – ever the cautious man – made sure no wires or messages could get to her hands. With each torturous hour that passed, the hollowed pit on her chest kept growing, washing her in cold premonition._

_It was old, caring Gerda who ended up delivering her the news. Old, caring Gerda, who must have known about the passion between Anna and her ward._

_“They found the ship.” Those words marked the last time Anna felt true joy, for the sentence that was uttered afterwards would break her forever._

_“The wreckage, my lady. They found the wreckage.”_

-v-

_Nobody bothered with a funeral or a grave. Nobody seemed to care about the orphaned woman that had disappeared. Even if someone had cared, no one found her body. That was enough for her: a hole in the veil to which she could cling with all her might. Anna Agnes vowed never to lose track of it, to keep that heartache alive, and hope._

_As long as she did so, Elsa could come back to her._

-v-

 _Half a year after the_ Yale _had sunk in some remote part of the sea, Anna married due to her father’s insistence. Without Elsa, there was no fight, no fire left in her. Only ashes._

_The party extended well into the night. It seemed her whole family – and Kristoff’s too – had gathered in the ballroom of the manor. An hour had already passed, and she continued greeting people, old acquaintances and her parent’s friends in equal numbers. A proud aura surrounded Kristoff – her husband, she had to remind herself – and she could tell his unabashed grin was sincere. Hers wasn’t; never could be. During the first hours, through their joined arms, he kept squeezing her hand, trying to convey his happiness and support, yet she never returned the gesture._

_Not even once did she look him in the eye._

_Everyone praised her looks, the intricacy of her long, expensive dress. Nonetheless, she found no beauty in the reflection she saw on the silver platers and glasses. All around, the lights were too bright, the laughs too loud, and the future too bleak. She was a puppet, a hollow hay doll pushed forcefully into a make-believe life. The minutes dripped by, one nauseated smile after another._

_As the night carried on, she stopped casually sipping from her cup and instead drank in earnest, much to the vexation radiating from her father’s stare. The wine’s sweetness beckoned her, promising a modicum of hazy freedom._

_She gladly took that chance, and after a while, the lights and laughs and future didn’t seem so overwhelming. She kept drinking, and she kept forgetting: a marvelous arrangement. The last memory of her wedding was the feeling of Kristoff’s arms as he helped her slip into bed._

-v-

_The headache that pounded in her head; the soreness and thirst; even the shame of what she had done, she could endure all of it. What she could not was her husband’s question that he asked calmly the next morning._

_“So… who’s Elsa?” His eyes were painfully tender; accepting of whatever she would tell him._

_She never answered, and he never asked again. A week later, she moved in with Kristoff, leaving behind her room, her parents but never the memory of her sky-blue eyes._

-v-

_Years rushed by. Life went on. Every day chipped away a little of her strength. Bit by bit, what remained of her heart fell and it all became an unshakable weight, a dull sorrow ever-present and never done. The emptiness of her new house only mocked her: a grinning shadow that followed her. It reminded her of her childhood home. It reminded her of quiet nights and platinum hair._

_Time’s hasty pace muddled her sorrow: on the best of days, Anna found herself smiling. She could enjoy the taste of her meals and the summer’s light. Her husband’s company became bearable, borderline enjoyable at times._

_Then, there were the worst of days, the ones that ended with hellish nights soaked in past reveries. Lady Agnes would sit alone, hidden in some dark corner with her nails sunk into the soft flesh of her forearms. Dark droplets stained her clothes. Her longing fingers ached for a lost touch, one that refused to leave her body._

_A fact remained; she was a prisoner without chains. All that had survived of her was a voiceless, uncaring husk._

-v-

It was only a ten-minute walk from the station to the manor’s entrance. A few lamps lit the street, covered from end to end in leaves. Anna dragged her suitcase against the cobblestones. Off in the distance, she could hear the train’s whistle and, closer, the muffled sounds from the old houses around her: a child’s laugh, a dog’s bark and the faint echoes of conversations.

Above, the moon’s light began to spear through the clearing clouds.

She followed the brick wall surrounding the manor’s grounds until she stood in front of the iron gates with its tall black bars.

After her father had retired from his job four years ago, he and her mother went to the countryside, to a little property close to the cliffs. Their family home had remained uninhabited ever since.

The autumn winds had begun to gain strength, whistling around her as she looked into the foreboding, tall structure. No caretaker came to meet her at the gates, and once Anna inspected the fence more closely, she saw the padlock had been unlocked. Once inside, the lady’s breath caught in her throat when she saw a faint, flickering light in one of the eastern windows.

She quickly made her way up the few stairs and to the front door. One of the heavy wooden wings was slightly ajar so she pushed it, entering her childhood home.

The hall was empty, but she had expected that. She left her suitcase by the entrance and began to walk in earnest towards one of the side doorways. Each of her steps echoed loudly. Even after all those years, the layout of the manor was second nature to her. She had expected to feel a sliver of nostalgia stepping into her old home, even a light pull of her memory at past joys and sorrows, but nothing came. Up until now, there hadn’t been any use in reminiscing, nor would it be after that night.

Dark corridors delivered her, at last, into a long hallway, generously bathed in moonlight. The white, ethereal light entered through the long windows, its beams shifting erratically as the clouds moved and passed on its path. From one end to the other, there were dozens of closed doors. By the time she arrived at the end of the corridor, Anna’s right hand clutched desperately at her chest.

She stopped in front of the door to Elsa’s old room. Anna knew this was not the time for hesitation. After collecting herself – as much as she could – she reached for the knob with trembling fingers and pushed.

The room was lit with the tired light of a candle. It was the same tiny place, but it felt emptier. There was almost no furniture left, only an abandoned nightstand where the candle rested. None of that mattered, of course.

She stood in the middle of the small chamber. Bright, silvery hair covered most of her back, framed by the deep scarlet of her dress. Her drumming heart threatened to suffocate her: it pounded deep inside, demanding, begging to be set free at the sight of its truest desire.

Anna stepped closer, subconsciously holding her breath.

“Elsa…” she whispered.

When the blonde turned to face her, time itself seemed to turn back. Fifteen years of darkness began to crumble; the pillar of her sorrow shaken by the strongest of forces, for the miracle had occurred. A vision of fine features, a renewed madness, perhaps, born of a life’s worth of despair. She could not tell. She didn’t care. What did sanity entail, other than a broken promise?

Her pale lips pulled into a smile. Anna gasped, extending her hand forward. She touched the cold skin of her cheek, and Elsa nuzzled against it, never taking her soul-shattering eyes off her.

Lady Agnes lowered her hand, resting it against her chest.

Then, through the terse skin beneath her fingertips, she felt it: a slow, steady heartbeat.


End file.
